Come, all you pretty fair maids, a line to you I'll write:
In ploughing of the ocean I take a great delight.
Our land lady fears no danger, nor danger does she know,
While we poor jolly sailor lands plought on, the ocean through.

When labouring men come home at night, they tell the girls fine tales,
What they have been doing, all in the new cornfields.
'Tis a-cutting of the grass so short 'tis all that they can do,
While we poor jolly sailors bold ploughs on the ocean through.

Here's the night as dark as any pitch, and the wind begins to blow,
Our captain he commanded us, "All hands turn out below."
Our captain he commanded us our goodly ship to guard:
"Jump up aloft, my lively lads, and strike topgallant yard."

You see a storm is rising, and we are all confound,
Looking out every moment that we shall all be drowned.
Cheer up! never be fainthearted; we shall see our girls again;
In spite of all our danger we'll plough the raging main.

So now the war's all over, and we are safe on shore,
We'll sing, and we will dance, my boys, as we have done before.
We'll sing and we will dance, my boys, and spend our money free,
And when our gold it is all gone, we'll boldly go to sea.

'Twas the twenty-first of October before the rising sun
We formed a line for action, my boys, at twelve o'clock begun.
Our mast and rigging was shot away Besides some thousands in that fray
Were killed and wounded on that day
On board a man o' war.

From broadside to broadside our cannon balls did fly;
Like hailstones the small shot around our deck did lie.
Brave Nelson to his men did say, "The Lord has promised us this day.
Give them the broadside, fire away,
On board the man o' war."

And then our brave commander with grief he shook his head:
"There is no relief, there is no reprieve, brave Nelson he is dead.
It was a fatal musket ball that caused our hero for to fall.
Let him die in peace, God bless you all,
On board the man o' war."

A bully ship and a bully crew
Ch: Doo-da, doo-da!
A bully mate and a captain too,
Ch: Doo-da, doo-da-day! Then
Blow, ye winds, Hi-oh,
For Californy-O!
There's plenty of gold, so I've been told,
On the banks of the Sacramento!

Round Cape Horn in the month of May,
Round Cape Horn in the month of May

We came to a land where the cocktail flows,
We came to a land where the cocktail flows

Came to a river and I couldn't get across,
Jumped on a black man, thought he was a hoss.